Oh Sheet! Eleven
by DivaKiva
Summary: After Ten Big Ones, Steph & Morelli get back together. Ranger disappears while working on a secret project involving national security and Stephanie is drawn into it. Spoilers for Ten. PG-13 (Unless I get smut-inspired) Work in progress
1. What am I? Crazy?

Somewhere in this world, I'm sure there exists some intelligent, level-headed person with Italian heritage who thinks before she acts and never flies off the handle.

And somewhere on this planet, I'm betting you could find a whole bunch of rational, logical Hungarians that never do really stupid things.

Unfortunately, none of their genes have filtered down to me.

Which is why I was hiding out in a seedy motel room, not only from the remnants of god-knows-how-many murderous gang bangers, but I was also hiding from the two people in the world I care the most about.

I just hope someone remembers to feed Rex.

It hasn't even been a full day yet since the Comstock Slayers were "plumerized". Do you like that word? It was on the news this morning. On the television. On the station that covers all of New Jersey and most of Southern New York and parts of Pennsylvania.

"Plumerized." That's what they saying happened to the Comstock Slayers. That the Bombshell Bounty Hunter plumerized them. It kind of sounds like I fixed their garbage disposal or something.

I hate my life.

That's one of the reasons I'm sitting here sulking in a dark slimy motel room with a cardboard hand towel filled with beverage-size ice cubes pressed against my brilliantly purple face.

The other reason is that I WONT BE LOCKED UP! Even by really intensely attractive muscle bound studs who really care about me and are awesome in bed and are probably worried half out of their wits by now.

What's the difference between being locked up at Morelli's with Bob the dog or locked up in the RangeMan Building with a half a dozen studly Merry Men or locking myself up alone in a seedy motel room on Route 1?

I don't know. Logic and rational thinking aren't my strong points when it comes to running my own life, but if I want to run my own life illogically and irrationally, then that's my life, isn't it?

Don't answer that.

Last night, I sat on the curb among the chaos and carnage of Comstock Street, really pissed that I missed out on the sheet cake and little Swedish meatballs at my sister's shower. The shower I really didn't mind missing. Missing the Swedish meatballs was going to psychologically scar me for life.

Ranger was standing like a statue less than a few feet away, glancing down at me occasionally but mostly watching the activity in all directions. A few times, he stiffened and his hand moved to his gun, only to relax and go back into surveillance mode.

My hands were still shaking and my head was aching from the beating the Junkman had given my face, yet I was still kicking myself: I hated being so weak and I hated that I needed this protection.

Morelli was everywhere, moving in all directions. Every time I looked up, he was somewhere else on the crime scene, talking to witnesses, talking to cops, looking at evidence, looking at corpses. A couple of times I caught his eye when I would look up and he would give me a twisted little smile and shake his head as if to say "Oh Lucy, you've done it again!"

I sighed.

Even more than guns do I hate dead bodies, but I had to look when they pulled Junkman's corpse out from under Sally's bus. I had to be sure that he was dead. I had to be sure that the monster was gone. I glanced over and saw that the tire had gone right over his head, crushing it into dogfood.

Bells clanged, light flashed and I heaved everything in my stomach out onto the sidewalk.

Well that sucks. I just puked up granola and unflavored fat free yogurt. I could have had the meatballs and the sheetcake and it wouldn't have been any more fattening than that tree bark cereal that I ate at Ranger's. I felt my eyes start to tear. Oh great. Now I'm going to start to cry?

A nudge on my shoulder and I looked over. Ranger was handing me a white handkerchief.

"Thanks" I said as I wiped my face. I looked down at the mess between my feet and then I glanced over to a spot ten feet further down on the sidewalk. "I don't think I like this neighborhood. Whatya say we move over there?"

The almost smile and then his hands were on my arms, helping me up. I was still trembling, but I gave myself a shake to pull myself together and wobbled the dozen or so steps down the pavement. I would have loved to have just collapsed into Ranger's arms. I really needed a hug, but Joe was still working and Ranger was acting a little distant. I could feel Joe's eyes on us as we moved down the street, so I contented myself with sitting on the curb, just barely leaning against Ranger's legs. I don't know what was freaking me out more at the moment: the death and carnage or the possessive energy that Ranger and Morelli were both putting out. I put my head in my hands and took deep breaths, trying to pull myself together.

I raised my head when I sensed rather than heard Morelli approaching. He was staring down at the mess I had made on the sidewalk.

"Cupcake, what have you been eating?"

"Granola and yogurt. I'm trying to lose some weight."

"Pino's and Coors would probably stay down better."

"I'll mention that to my personal dietician."

He gave that snort of laughter and then turned to look at Ranger with his cop face.

"I'm going to be working all night sorting through this mess. We're going to have to coordinate with the State's Street Gang Unit to figure out who's left of the Slayers. It could take a day or two before we know if they're still a threat."

I could tell that it was killing Joe to say this. He was telling Ranger to take me back to whatever safehouse he had been hiding me in. Ranger gave the smallest nod to indicate that he understood. The two of them locked eyes with the same intensity as if they were arm wrestling.

When they finally broke it off, Joe bent over to kiss me lightly on the forehead, on one of the few places that I wasn't bruised or bleeding. "I'll call you later, Cupcake," he said as he turned and walked away.

"Just like that?" I yelled. Morelli stopped and shook his head before turning back to me. "What am I? Some four year old that has no say in where I go?"

"Okay, I'm sorry." Morelli said. "Where do you want to stay tonight?"

I don't know what ticked me off more: not knowing any place better to stay than Ranger's apartment, or Joe's tone of voice talking to me like I was a four year old. I opened and closed my mouth several times, but nothing came out, so I just glared at him.

With one last shake of his head he turned and went back to work. "I'll call you in the morning."

Ranger grabbed me by the elbow to help me to my feet. I was shaking again, but now it was from anger rather than shock. I glanced over at Ranger and he raised an eyebrow at me. I shook myself free of his grip.

"Let me get my purse out of the car."

As I wobbled over to the Big Blue, Ranger started to follow me, but I turned and glared at him. I can walk twenty feet to the car by myself, thank you. He gave me the raised eyebrow again as if to say, don't try anything.

That was probably a mistake, since it only got me more pissed off.

As I reached into the car, I noticed that the keys were still in the ignition. Glancing up, I saw that the Big Blue wasn't within the crime scene and had a unobstructed path right down Comstock. Without thinking I slammed the door, turned the key and gunned the engine.

If the sound of the most gluttonous combustion engine on the east coast roaring to life didn't draw everyone's eye in my direction, the sight of Ranger running after the car certainly did.

A glance in the rear view mirror showed me Ranger, standing very still in the middle of Comstock Street. And boy, did he look pissed.

I knew that it would be only a matter of seconds before Ranger would be on my tail, along with a half a dozen black and whites. I took a couple of quick turns to get the hell out of Slayerland and then started to take some random turns to hopefully mislead anyone trying to guess where I was headed. It would have been pretty hard to guess that since I had no clue myself where I was going.

I pulled into the McDonald's drive-thru and got two 12-piece McNuggets, a supersize fries, an oreo shake and a large diet coke.

See, if I get the diet coke, the other calories don't count.... I'm still on the diet.

I didn't drink the diet coke. I haven't gotten that desperate yet.

I parked in the back of the McDonald's, away from the floodlights and thought hard about what I was going to do next.

Hoo boy. I am so screwed. I have no idea what to do next.

More fries and a couple of chugs of the oreo shake and I realized that I needed to lose the Big Blue. Every black and white in Trenton will be on the lookout for it. Not to mention Ranger. Not to mention the Merry Men. Not to mention Morelli.

I needed to lose the Big Blue.

Three quarters through the second batch of McNuggets and I had a plan. Maybe not a good plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. I carefully pulled out of the McDonald's, checking to be sure that the coast was clear before peeling out with a squeal of rubber.

Okay, maybe that wasn't as subtle as I could have been, but it worked.

My cell phone rang. I drove with my knee for a half a block while I groped to the far side of the bench seat to grab my purse. I looked at the phone, it was Morelli.

"Hi! Is it morning already?" I asked in my most chipper flight attendant voice.

"Cupcake, do you know that it's a felony to remove evidence from an active crime scene?"

"Would that evidence be me or the car? I'm just curious."

"Where are you?"

"Do you know where Buffalo, New York is?"

I could hear Morelli snort into his phone.

"Well, I'm not there."

"I've got an APB out on you. And I've told them to shoot to kill."

"Well, forewarned is forearmed."

"I will find you."

"Oh, I think we're breaking up, it's a bad connection, I'm going into a tunnel." I did my static crackle into the phone.

"Much better, not nearly as much phlegm as last time."

I disconnected feeling a little better. Joe was only slightly pissed, which meant that he didn't think there was that much chance of the Slayers' regrouping and attacking tonight.

I stuck to the side streets until I pulled up to Dougie the Dealer's house. I drove the Blue around the rear and maneuvered it to the back of his yard partially hidden by the shed and the half a dozen other cars of dubious origin that he had parked there.

I kept my eyes open as I walked around the house and up onto his porch. I didn't have to wait long after knocking, the door flew open and Walter "MoonMan" Dunfey, a.k.a. "Mooner", a.k.a. "The Moon" stood in the doorway wearing Scooby Doo pajamas and a plastic fireman's hat and holding a half empty cone of cotton candy. He blinked his eyes several times to realign his mind back to this planet before grinning broadly.

"Hey Dougie! It's Wonder Woman!"

Okay, so I don't know what combination of chemicals you have to ingest in order to mistake me for Wonder Woman, but I was all in favor of seeding them into the nation's water supply. I pushed my way in and closed the door behind us.

"Hey Mooner," I said grabbing a pinchful of cotton candy. "I didn't know they made Scooby Doo pajamas in your size."

"Special order, Dudette. Had to wait six weeks for them."

I glanced around the living room, looking for Dougie. I finally found him sprawled across a very expensive looking sofa that was covered with stuffed animals and Star Wars figures all positioned to be watching the television. Except for the couch and the fact that the room was packed with every imaginable electronics toy in the market, the room still looked like a cross between the projects and a dorm room after an end-of-term party. Dougie's feet were propped up on his milk crate coffee table and in his hands was the remote joystick to his PlayStation 2. He smiled at me blankly.

"I need to snag a clean pair of jeans and a tee shirt," I told Dougie as I headed up the stairs. "And I need to borrow a car for a few days."

Dougie smiled and nodded. I wasn't too sure how much was getting through to his brain.

"The Dougster is cool with that," Mooner answered. "You are, like, his primary Bounty Hunter Babe."

Good to know. I may need that on my résumé some day. I plowed through the mess in the third bedroom, the remnants of all those items that Doug "the Dealer" used to stock when he was the most laid-back fence in all of Trenton. The combination of a bad bust and the arrival of an unforeseen windfall of money had drastically changed the source of his income, if only slightly changing his lifestyle. I made a mental note to drag the two of them to rehab for a couple of weeks when the world came off "Code Plum".

I shoved my ripped clothes into the back of the closet and went to the bathroom. I nearly screamed when I saw myself in the mirror. The bruise, the blood, the hair! Omigod! The hair from hell!! I hadn't been surprised that Mooner and Dougie didn't comment on my appearance, they were more than a little on the unobservant side, but I hadn't realized how bad I looked. I washed the dirt and blood off my face and I could see where the purple bruising was just starting. Good thing I bolted. I didn't want even Bob to see me in my current condition, never mind the Merry Men. I finger-brushed my hair and pulled it over to cover most of the cuts on my forehead and some of the bruises on my cheek, and then ran down the stairs.

Dougie and Mooner were fixated on a "Space Ghost" cartoon that was blasting out on the massive flat screen TV that they had propped up on top of their old TV that still had someone's shoe resting inside after it had shattered the screen.

"I'm going to borrow a car," I said as I fished through the kitchen drawers for the keys. I found them in the silverware drawer under a heap of unwashed spoons and forks. Gross. Okay, also on the list: when they go to rehab I'm using some of their cash stash to have a cleaning crew go through this place top to bottom.

I picked the tan '96 BMW that had only minor body damage: dents and scratches but nothing that would catch anyone's eye.

I was running back in to return the other keys when I heard the phone ring. I froze for a moment, then bolted up the stairs to catch them before they answered it.

I didn't need to worry. It looked like they only answered the phone during commercials. I had no idea where the answering machine was, but I heard it pick up.

"Dude," I heard Mooner's recorded voice, "The Dougster is, like, not all here, you know what I mean?" Then the machine beeped.

"Doug," I smiled when I heard Morelli's voice. He was fast, but not fast enough. "This is Joe Morelli from the Trenton Police Department... pickup the phone." There was a long pause and I smiled as I visualized Joe's frustration. "Okay then, call me when you get this message." He left his cell phone number and then disconnected.

I glanced over to the boys on the couch. I seriously doubted that they had even heard it. I found the machine and noticed that they had fourteen messages waiting. Joe was going to be waiting for a long time for that return call.

I locked the door behind me without saying goodbye. When Joe didn't get his return call, he'd probably be by in person and find the Blue, but I doubted that either Doug or Mooner were going to be able to figure out which car I took, or even remember that I'd been there. Again, I smiled as I pictured Joe's annoyance.

Okay, so now I had a non-descript car with expired plates, forty dollars in my purse and no place to go. It would be at least another six or seven days before Valerie and company vacated my apartment and I knew that both Ranger and Joe would be watching my parents' place. I was exhausted, beat and I needed to sleep. I pulled two hundred bucks out of a bank machine and found myself driving around aimlessly. I ended up driving down Route 1 as if on autopilot.

What am I, crazy? Don't answer that. I found myself pulling into the parking lot of the Morelli/Gilman motel. I must be on some self-induced sado-masochism thing to be here. And yet, I needed a place to sleep and this would be one of the few places that I could pay cash and get away with not using an I.D. That, and the fact that it was cheap.

I checked in under the name of Carol Zabo. I would have used Joyce Barnhardt's name, but I figured she'd be known in every sleazy motel from Cape Ann to Cape Cod.

The night desk clerk didn't ask any questions and barely looked up from the Playboy magazine he was reading. (Yes, he was actually reading the articles... go figure.) I got the feeling from the way he glanced at my face that he thought I was a battered wife or girlfriend hiding out. He gave me an extra ice bucket which I filled in the office before going to the room.

It was a musty smelling little hole with a picture window next to the front door and a dinky little bathroom. There was a real small window in the bathroom, probably cheaper then putting in a ceiling vent.

I moved the 70's era lounge chair in front of the door and put the TV on top of it. Nothing I could do about the window, it was double paned so it would take more than one blow to get through it. I still had Ranger's gun with me, so I filled a towel with ice, pulled back the bed spread, set the gun next to my pillow and fell asleep with the ice pack on my cheek.


	2. Bombshell: 1 Slayers: 0

So that's why I was sitting alone on a Saturday morning, in a dark motel room, peering through the window sheers, watching the traffic fly by on Route 1, with an ice pack on my face, and feeling very sorry for myself.

From where I sat, I could see any car that entered the parking lot. Behind the hotel was an interstate off-ramp, the only way anyone could sneak up on you from behind would be to park on the off-ramp and climb over the barricades.

I could see why someone might pick this location for any activity other than the usual motel games. It was a real easy place to secure. I made a mental note about that for the future.

I think I needed a new pad for my mental notes, this one was getting full.

I had already spoken to my family this morning. My mother simply said "Why me?" and handed the phone to my grandmother. Grandma told me that the phone had been going ballistic all morning and that a TV crew had already been by to interview her. I should watch the 6pm news.

Hoo boy.

I apologized to my sister for missing the shower. No problem, the shower was fun, she loved the phone, she drank three Long Island ice teas and vomited up Swedish meatballs in the lady's room.

I hate her. I wanted to vomit up Swedish meatballs and I was stuck vomiting up tree bark and yogurt.

I called Ranger's office number, knowing that I would get his machine. My message was short: "Sorry 'bout last night. I kind of lost my temper." I hoped I sounded cute and endearing, but I had the feeling he wasn't in the mood for cuteness.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out, thinking about calling Morelli, but I thought better of it. I needed to give him some time to cool off too.

I was in such a deep funk that I squeaked when my phone rang. It was Morelli.

"Steph..."

Not a good sign... 'Cupcake' would have been a better sign...

"Hi..." I left the end open. I couldn't read his mood yet.

"Hiding?"

"Uh, huh."

"From who?"

"You want the shorter list? The shorter list is who I'm not hiding from."

"Am I on the short list or the long list."

"You are way on the top of the long list."

"Good to know I'm on the top."

"Yup, you always like being on top."

I heard the snort of laughter and relaxed. Okay, he wasn't that mad.

"Any Slayers on that list?"

"They're up there."

"Not any more."

"Come again?"

"I'd love to."

_I _snorted this time.

"It's been a very busy night. The Kings, the Bad Killer Cuts and the Bloods were all on the warpath last night. They moved in on the Slayers' territory. By this seven this morning, all of Slayerland was wiped out. The Kings have moved in all the way down to the seven hundred block. The Cuts got everything southeast of Comstock and Seventh and the Bloods have taken the area southwest of Comstock and Seventh. Besides the nine Slayers that Sally took out last night, we've got another sixteen dead. As far as the State Police Gang Unit can figure, what's left of the Slayers are the five that we have in custody and four that are MIA. They've probably fled the state already."

"Ho-ly Crap!"

"The State Police have asked if they can contract you out for their Newark operation."

"WHAT?"

"Joking. At least I hope they were."

There was a long pause as I took all this in.

"So what's next?"

"I don't know if we can really be sure that there isn't a threat out there for another twenty-four hours. We need that time to track down the missing Slayers. Also, we're talking with the L.A.P.D. Gang Unit to see if the L.A. Slayers are planning any retribution." There was a long pause and I could hear the strain in Morelli's silence. "I need you to come in, Cupcake. Just until we're sure that the situation is under control."

I ran my fingers through my hair. "I won't be locked up. Not by you. Not by Ranger." I needed to make him understand. "If I crawl under a rock and stop living, then I'm just doing to myself what the Slayers want to do to me. It's not that I'm not afraid. You know I'm a chicken shit. It's just that I can't let the fear take over."

"Being cautious and sensible is not the same as letting the fear take over. Laying low for twenty four hours so that you can be alive next week is not the same as being killed."

It sounded so logical when he said it, I don't know why it still sounded like giving up to me. There was a long silence. I could hear Joe breathing, I could feel him trying to understand.

"Joe, when I was a kid, I had a bit of an overactive imagination. And when I was fifteen, I was absolutely certain that someone was trying to kill me. I'd slip on the ice and an entire storefront window pane would smash, and I would imagine that it was all part of some diabolical assassination plot. A car would skid out on a slippery street and I was sure that it was trying to hit me. I got myself so freaked out that I locked myself in my bedroom for a week. I wouldn't even go downstairs to eat, I was that certain that something out there was trying to get me. My mother was a basket case, she kept telling me that I was just imagining the whole thing. I knew I was, but that didn't make my fear any less real. Grandma was cool, she said it was just a phase and that I would get over it.

"But it was my Dad who really helped me. My Dad. Go figure? He would barely say three sentences to me in an entire year, but when I was sitting in my room, freaking out, he came in and sat on the edge of my bed. I'm never going to forget what he said. 'Princess' he said. Don't laugh, he used to call me 'princess'. 'Princess' he said, 'Life is scary and living is dangerous, but if you spend all your life being scared of dying, then you're going to end up being too afraid to live. Don't be too afraid to live, 'cause living is more fun than dying.'"

"That's deep."

"Yup."

"Then what?"

"I took a shower, called Marylou and we went to the mall."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, I didn't stop being afraid, I just stopped letting it control me. And whenever scary stuff would happen, I'd just figure that being afraid sometimes is the price you pay for living."

There was another long pause. I was having trouble reading him on this one. When he spoke again, I could hear that he had his cop face on.

"Do you feel safe where you are right now?"

"Safe enough."

"Can you give me a couple of hours? Just stay low, off the streets and out of sight for a couple hours?"

There was something in his voice that made me think he was up to something. "Why? What's up? What are you on to?"

"Cupcake, just do this for me. I'll call you in a couple of hours." He disconnected abruptly.

I sat there running that conversation over in my head. Something I said had pushed one of Morelli's buttons, but I couldn't figure out what it could be. I used the last bit of ice in the bucket to replenish my towel. I was going to take a shot in the dark and guess that this place didn't have room service and I didn't want to draw attention to myself by calling the front desk and asking them to walk some ice down to me.

It was already getting pretty old sitting in that motel room but even without Morelli's request, I really would have hesitated about going out. One side of my face was still in brilliant technicolor and I doubted that even a dozen Mary Kay Reps could have made me look like anything but a bloody terror.

I sat on the bed, toying with the buttons on my cell phone, thinking about calling Ranger. Maybe he wasn't that angry. Maybe he thought this was kind of funny. Or maybe even cute?

I dialed his cellphone. It picked up after the first ring. I waited. I could hear him breathing, but he didn't say anything.

"Yo?" I said, hopefully.

Nothing. Okay, so we're still pissed.

"Anything interesting happen last night?"

Nothing. Okay, so we're really pissed. I sighed.

"I didn't blow up your car. That's gotta count for something."

Nothing. This was getting old.

"So. You mad at me?"

A long pause, and then...

"Babe."

He disconnected.

I sighed. He was really, really pissed.


	3. Revelations

The TV was still on the chair which was still in front of the door. This was okay since I could watch the TV and keep an eye out the window at the same time. There was nothing happening in the parking lot, yet it was still more interesting than anything the 116 channels had to offer, which was really pitiful. I turned off the TV and vegged.

A car pulling into the parking lot caught my eye. A black BMW, new and shiny. It pulled in a couple spots away from Dougster's tan BMW, old and denty. It wasn't very interesting until the door opened and the driver stepped out.

Terry Gilman, looking cool and sleek in a pearl gray designer suit with perfectly matching heels. I bet she had her shoes dyed to match her suits. I groped on the bed for Ranger's gun (don't go there, Steph) and watched as she walked into the office. A couple of seconds later, she was out again and was headed down the walkway towards my room.

With the lights off and the sheers drawn, I knew she couldn't see much into my room, but I ducked down behind the bed anyway. She glanced into my window and for a moment I thought that she was going to try to open my door, but then I heard the key in the lock and heard her enter the room next door. I sat on the bed in shock. What was she doing here, and, more important, who was she meeting? I really didn't want to know that answer.

I sat with my eyes glued to the entrance to the parking lot. It was like waiting for a train wreck. I knew what was coming and yet there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I wasn't surprised when, after five minutes, I saw Morelli's SUV pull into the parking lot, but I was flaming angry. Stay low and out of sight? Why? So he could sneak out for a little afternoon bumping uglies with his favorite mafia princess?

My hands were shaking as I popped the cartridge out of Ranger's semi automatic. I just didn't trust myself to be holding a loaded gun when Morelli and Gilman were going to be doing who knows what in the next room.

Morelli parked the SUV right next Gilman's BMW. His glance at Dougster's Beemer was no more cursory than the way he eyed everything else. He was in cop-mode, subconsciously scoping out everything within sight. The asshole knew exactly where he was going and walked right up to the door of Gilman's room and entered without knocking.

I threw the cartridge under the bed so I wouldn't be tempted to shoot.

I ran to the bathroom to grab the drinking glass. I put it up against the wall and listened. In the movies, you could hear what was happening in the next room if you listened through a glass. In real life, all you got was a squashed ear. I put the glass down.

I didn't need the glass. The walls in this cheapo motel were paper thin. If they raised their voices even a little bit, I could hear them clearly. I sat on the bed, hugging my knees.

This was just like watching a train wreck.

I heard Gilman say something so low that I couldn't make out the words, but I could make out the tone: it was soft and sultry and inviting.

I dived under the bed for the cartridge, which is why I didn't make out Morelli's reply. My hands were shaking when I heard Gilman's response.

"What do you mean?" she asked, not quite so sexy, not quite so soft.

"You heard me." Both the gun and the cartridge slipped from my hands onto the bed. Whoa! Morelli's voice was cold and hard, I could hear the barely controlled anger.

"You dragged me out here in the middle of the day to ask me about my Confirmation money?"

"I'm asking you right now, to your face: what did you do with your Confirmation money?"

"Are you serious? I don't remember. I invested it."

"You got nearly forty grand for your Confirmation and I remember that you spent it all on something in our senior year. You're going to tell me right now what you spent it on."

Forty grand? For Confirmation? Damn! I got a hundred and twenty bucks, a personalized bible and the right to use the car for three weekends. I want to be a mafia princess when I grow up.

"I don't remember."

"Fucking liar." Oooh. Joe better never use that tone of voice to me.

"I DON'T REMEMBER!" I'm betting they could hear Terry from the off-ramp.

"Yes or no. Did you use your Confirmation money to hire a mob hit on Stephanie Plum."

WHAT?

"WHAT?"

That's what I said... WHAT?

"Yes or no."

I couldn't hear a sound from the other room, but I'm guessing that whatever Morelli saw or heard gave him his answer.

"You fucking bitch. You fucking cow bitch."

"Well what did you expect me to do? You're screwing me but thinking about her!"

WHAT????

"Once! I called you Stephanie once! And you hire a mob hit? What are you, sick?"

"Eight times!"

WHAT???????

"Like hell."

"A woman doesn't lie about something like that, Joey. Eight times your fucking me and calling out for her." I could tell she was crying and I could almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

"You're sick."

"I loved you, Joey. I was giving you everything I had and you kept eying some scawny, flat-chested sophomore. It was all your fault."

"My fault. Sheesh." I could hear the springs on mattress whine. I imagined Morelli sitting on the bed in disgust. I thought I could make out Gilman sobbing. I crept as close as I could to the wall.

It was too quiet in there.

"What happened?"

"He missed. Three times."

It was quiet. I don't know if Joe actually said something or if Terry knew he wanted to know more. I know I wanted to know more.

"First time was when she was walking down Culver Street. She slipped on the ice in front of Drake's Hardware and the bullet missed, taking out the entire storefront. The next time, near as I can figure, she forgot her homework, and when she turned back to get it, he grabbed Carla Bellotti by accident. He let her go when he figured out his mistake. The last time, he was trying to run her down on Dunton Street and he skidded out and wrapped his car around a pole, getting himself killed."

Another very long silence. I was shaking again, but since I couldn't tell if it was from anger or fear, I put the cartridge back under the bed. Just to be on the safe side.

"Does Vito know about this?"

"Yeah. I had to use the company cleanup crew to retrieve the bullet from Drake's. That, and the discovery that a Chicago soldier unexpectedly turned up dead in Trenton gave him a clue. That's when he sent me off to Boston for that cheerleader gig."

"Shit."

Again, it was a long silence.

"Joey..." My forehead was against the wall, trying to hear, her voice was so low. "I'm sorry." I think she was crying, but maybe not. "But it's partially your fault." I heard Morelli snort in disgust. "You can make a woman crazy, you know." I knew exactly what she meant.

The sound of their door opening sounded so loud that I nearly squeaked. I didn't move as I saw Gilman walk by my window. Her mascara was down her cheeks and her pristine hair was a mess, but she walked like a runway model, her chin in the air. You could never tell from her walk that she was even slightly upset. I watched as she got in her car and used her rear view mirror to fix her hair and her face. She drove out without looking back.

I walked back to sit on the bed, shaking like a leaf. Morelli was still in the next room. I hugged my knees, took a deep breath, and sat there not moving. I couldn't hear any sounds of movement from next door either. I think we were both a little shell-shocked.

I raised my head at the sound of the bedsprings next door. I looked to the window to see if Morelli was leaving and I almost screamed when my cell phone rang. I lunged for it, saw Morelli's number and hit the silent button before the second ring. The call went to voicemail.

I was sprawled across the bed, frozen like a deer in the headlights, waiting for the sound of movement from next door. It was awful quiet for much too long. Had Morelli heard the ring?

Then I could barely make out the sound of the knob turning next door. Morelli was moving like a cat. I grabbed the gun and my purse and rolled down behind the bed just in time. I could see his shadow peering into the window. I grabbed the cartridge and crawled over to the bathroom. Joe moved to the door and I heard him working on the knob. I quietly closed the bathroom door, locked it, and forced open the tiny bathroom window.

It was a real small window and I doubt that I'd have made it through if I'd had the Swedish meatballs and sheetcake. I squirmed out, pulling my purse behind me, and dropped to the ground.

"Cupcake?"

Okay, I screamed like a girl, but I thought he was on the other side of the building. He leaned his arms on either side of me, pinning me against the wall.

"Oh, hi." I said as casually as I could considering I could barely breath. My heart was in full cardiac arrest. "I didn't see you there."

He moved his hand to lightly pull my hair back off my face, exposing my peacock purple bruise. His eyes narrowed. "Whoa!"

"Pretty, huh? I hear in L.A., women pay big bucks for this look. Me, it comes without trying."

He hmphed a little laugh and then got serious. "How much did you hear in there?"

"Hear what?"

"You know what."

I looked off over his shoulder as I thought about what I had heard.

"You want to know why that really scares me? Because I thought I had been imagining the whole thing. I thought I was just being neurotic or something. I didn't know I actually needed to be careful. I thought I was just over-reacting."

His fingers were playing with my hair, avoiding the areas that were cut and bruised. He lowered his face to the my unbruised ear and I felt his breath tickle my neck. "Bob misses you."

I leaned towards him and sketched my fingers over his chest.

"And I miss Bob too."

As my fingers wandered up to brush his cheek and his lips, I felt something large and hard pressing against my hips. "Oh, and I missed Dick as well."

"Oh Cupcake, Dick missed you too!"


	4. The Doctor is in

A laundry basket full of clothes, washed and folded was waiting for us on the front porch of Morelli's house. Rex's cage was suspended by a plant hook in the center of porch. Three neighborhood cats sat patiently below the cage, watching.

Joe shooed away the cats and unhooked Rex's cage while I stared at the basket.

I sighed. Ranger was still pissed.

I traded the basket with Joe for Rex's cage and he opened the door. Rex was hiding in his soup can. I could see it trembling.

"Yeah," I whispered to Rex. "I know how you feel. The last twenty four hours hasn't been a picnic for me either."

I placed Rex's cage on the kitchen counter, next to the cookie jar. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a piece of pizza. I broke off a piece and dropped it into his little food bowl while I took a bite of mine. It must have been a couple of days old 'cause it was a little chewy, but I felt better anyway. Rex came out of his can, snatched his piece of crust and rushed back into his can. Rex felt better too, I could tell. Rex and I are a lot alike. Pretty easy to please. When it comes to food.

I turned and saw Morelli, leaning against the back of his sofa, his arms crossed over his chest, smiling at me. I knew that smile. I bit off a huge chunk of the pizza and shoved it in my mouth. I knew if I didn't eat fast, I probably wasn't going to get a chance to finish it.

"Doctor Dick will see you now."

I crammed another bite into my mouth. I hadn't eaten anything since my McDonald's binge last night and I was starving. I needed to stall for time. "I'm a little busy right now." I said, my mouth working its way around the pizza and the words. "Can we reschedule for later?" Like in forty five seconds? Right after I polish off the crust?

Morelli moved in for the kill, taking the pizza from my hand, I felt his lips on my neck and a hand running under my shirt. For a moment, my hand grappled for the pizza, then I felt his fingers slide under my waistband and I froze, my entire attention focused on his fingers. I felt my body blaze and tingle. What pizza?

"Don't you think we might be able to squeeze him in somewhere?"

"I think we can find an opening."

Hoo boy. Hoo boy. Hoo boy.


	5. What could possibly go wrong?

Connie and Lula were waiting for me as I walked into the bond office on Monday morning.

"Hey, Vinnie!" Connie yelled through the door to the back office. "The plumber's here!"

"Very funny." I lied as I plopped a bag of Dunkin Donuts onto Connie's desk.

"And look at the smile on that girl's face!" Lula hooted. "Looks likes someone's been working on the plumber's pipes."

I grabbed an apple crisp donut and plopped down onto the trés elegant vinyl couch. They were going to enjoy themselves whether I wanted them to or not, so I might as well let them get it over with.

"Tell me, girl friend! Who does the plumber call when she needs someone to snake out her drain?"

Connie snorted a mouthful of coffee all over her desk. She high-fived Lula before grabbing a handful of paper towels to wipe up the mess.

"Done?" I asked with my stone face on. Okay, it actually was pretty funny, but I wasn't going to encourage them any more than I already had.

Lula glanced over at Connie. "No," she stated. "But we'll pause for station identification."

I brushed the donut crumbs from my shirt and walked over to Connie's desk.

"Whatya got for me?" I asked, reaching for the pile of files sitting there.

"Nothing here for you right now." Connie answered apologetically. "We had a shoplifter go FTA on Friday, but he turned himself in today. He was watching a golf tournament on television and got so caught up in all the action, that he forgot his court date."

"Nothing?" I asked, eying the stack of folders. "What are those?"

"Ranger's already dibbed these. He's already been in and out this morning."

"Ranger took all the skips?" I started to feel a slow burn coming on. I knew he was a little pissed at me right now, but he'd never pulled rank on me before.

"It's not like that..." Connie started to say, but I was already punching in Ranger's number into my cell phone.

"Yo."

"Yo, nothing! What's this? You grabbed all the skips! Are you that pissed at me?"

There was a long wait. I was breathing heavy and not from the usual Ranger-induced causes.

"You don't want these, Babe. Trust me."

I grabbed the files out of Connie's hand while I spoke to Ranger. "Whatya mean, I don't want these? I..." I paused as I leafed through the first file.

Gangbanger: Killer Cut. He was right, I didn't want this one. The next file: gangbanger: One of the Kings. Another Killer Cut, two Crips, another King and three Bloods. I threw the files back on to Connie's desk.

"They're are all gang members? And they're all FTA? When did Vinnie become the bondsman of choice for the local turf lords?"

I was asking Ranger, but Connie answered. "Started last week, and Vinnie's maxed out his bonding capacity on the gang members so he doesn't have much left for the smaller felons."

"Crap." I said, plopping back down on to the couch. Ranger was right. I really didn't want to go after any gangbangers. Not this soon anyway. "This really sucks. My sister's moving out of my apartment this week and I'm going to need to start paying that rent again. And I've got no skips to pull in."

"You available for a job for me?"

Every alarm in my head went off. Ranger was still pissed at me. Was he setting me up? I had sworn a half a dozen times before that I would never work for him again, but lets face it: I'm from the Burg and I lie a lot . And if Vinnie was going almost exclusive with gang members, I had better diversify for a while.

"What kind of job?" I asked, making no attempt to hide my suspicion.

I could hear the laugh in Ranger's voice. "Nothing to get your panties in a twist over."

I thought for a moment about Ranger getting my panties in a twist. I took a deep breath and slapped my own cheek for thinking unclean thoughts.

"It's just a simple security job. Part of a body guard detail for a visiting foreign dignitary. Are you interested?"

Sounded basic. I would be part of a team. Probably the Merry Men. I knew that RangeMan paid well and I needed the money. What could possibly go wrong?

"Sounds good. When and where?"

"Tomorrow morning, 7 am. Meet Tank at the LaFayette Yard Marriott. And, babe, come dressed."

"Black?"

"That, and your gun."

Oh that.

He disconnected.

I looked over at Lula and Connie who were watching me like I was some soap opera. I smiled and shrugged.

What could possibly go wrong?


	6. Skipper and the Merry Men

By 6:52 am, the Big Blue was gloriously ensconced in the valet parking garage of the Lafayette Yard Marriot and I was raiding the complimentary breakfast buffet in the lobby. Tank, Lester and Cal entered together, Lester noticing me first and tapping Tank on the shoulder, pointing me out. As the trio of testosterone marched in my direction, I shoved the tail end of a coconut donut into my mouth and wrapped up two croissants into a napkin, shoving them and an apple into my purse. Hey, it might be hours before I get to eat again, better to be prepared. Burg survivalist training had kicked in.

"Good Morning!" I chirped. What the hell. Since I felt like a Skipper doll being outflanked by a platoon of G.I. Joes, I might as well sound like one.

They stood silently in front of me for a moment. Okay, since we're going for the stoic effect here, I folded my arms in front of me and stared back. I can play this game.

Not. Patience is not one of my life skills.

"So. What's the assignment? Are we going to stand here all day and guard the buffet table? Fine by me. I'll cover the end with the pastries."

Ha! I caught a smirk on Tank's face! Yes! Does he think he can play stoic with a Burg Babe? I think not! Foolish man!

He jerked his head to indicate the front doors. "Hal's waiting out with the cars."

Oh jeez. Not Hal. I hadn't seen Hal since I left him in a pile on the floor of the RangeMan Building garage after I had stunned him with his own stun gun. I just hoped he didn't hold a grudge.

Outside, Hal was leaning against the hood of black stretch limo. Two black Lexus SUVs flanked it, front and rear. I caught his eye and gave him a cheerful yet apologetic little wave with a sort of cute (I hope) smile that said 'Golly, gee, sorry about that!' I was rewarded with a small reluctant smirk. Good. With any luck I can make it through the day without any retaliation from Hal.

Cal got in the first SUV and Lester jumped in the one in the rear. Hal got behind the wheel of the stretch and Tank moved to get in the back seat of the stretch. I looked around, puzzled, waiting for some direction as to which vehicle I was to get into.

With a nod of his head, Tank indicated that I was to get into the stretch with him.

"Sweet!" I cried. "I haven't been in a stretch since Debbie Margolski's bachelorette party!" I climbed into the back seat. "I hope this isn't the same car. JoJo Wakowski barfed all over the upholstery on the one that we had."

I heard Cal's snort in the front seat. Good. If I was to be the entertainment line item on the RangeMan fiscal report, they might as well get their money's worth.

Tank handed me a file folder and as I opened it up and began to leaf through it, Tank briefed me.

"We're heading up to Teterboro Airport." I knew Teterboro. It was a small private airport about twenty miles or so outside of New York City. "We'll be picking up the Princess Jee-Hanna, the heir apparent to the throne of the country of Gudang, a small and politically volatile country in Malaysia. She'll be accompanied by her chaperon. We will be escorting her into the city for a day of shopping in Manhattan, then back to the Layfayette Yard for the night. You're off duty at 7pm tonight when Ranger will head up the night shift. You're back on tomorrow at 7am, and we'll drive her down to DC where she'll meet with the Vice President. Then she's scheduled to speak to a senate subcommittee about foreign aid to her country. Tomorrow night she'll fly back to Gudang out of Reagan International and we'll be driving back up to Trenton."

The pictures in the file showed my a really pretty Polynesian-looking face with large somber eyes. "She looks kind of young,"

"She's fourteen."

"What? Fourteen years old and she's meeting the Vice President and speaking to the US Senate?"

"Don't let her age throw you off. This brat is a god-awful terror. Her embassy refused Secret Service protection because last time she was in town, she reduced eight grown agents to tears, snuck away from them at two in the morning to go to a night club and nearly got herself killed."

Heh, heh, heh. My kind of kid.

"How did she nearly get herself killed?"

"If you're not real up on world events, there's a quick synopsis of the current political situation in Gudang on the back pages. In a nutshell, Jee-Hanna's grandfather is the current ruler of Gudang. In the past two years, twenty three members of the royal family have been assassinated, including Jee-Hanna's parents, three brothers and one sister. Her grandfather is pretty senile and the management of the country has fallen to Jee-Hanna and a handful of close advisors. The people of Gudang are fairly loyal to the royal family, but if Jee-Hanna is killed, chances are there won't be much of a resistance to a coup. Last time she was in New York, she was kidnapped and almost murdered by insurgent terrorists."

My breath was catching in my chest and my eyes started to fill up, I thought about this poor little kid, her family murdered and how frightened she must be pursued by the killers. Kind of put my own Slayers incident thing in perspective. At least no one had tried to hurt my family.

"Oh, the poor thing." I muttered.

Tank rolled his eyes. "Don't think 'poor thing' with this one. Trust me, she'll chew you up and spit you out if you don't keep your guard up."

I don't know. As I looked at the picture I could feel Stephanie Plum, mother hen to the free world, starting to rear her head.


	7. Princess and the Peabrain

It was quiet in the car as Princess Jee-hanna and her chaperone seated themselves in the limousine. Tank and I sat with our backs against the partition and the Princess and her chaperone sat facing forward. The chaperone's face was severe, her hair pulled sharply off her face, her lips pursed and eyes were tiny and beady and dull. I didn't think I was going to like her. I shot a friendly smile at the Princess who stared back at me intently.

She was smaller than I expected. From the back she might have been mistaken for a twelve year old, but her two layered tank tops and her tight, hip hugging tattered jeans showed off the curves a blossoming adolescent. Except for her expression, she looked like an ordinary teenybopper. She had a poise and intensity about her that you don't often see in a kid. She didn't return my smile.

"You are the one they call the Bomb Bounty Hunter?"

Oh jeez, not her too. I rolled my eyes and felt Tank twitch beside me in a silent laugh. "Bombshell. Some of my 'friends'," and I shot a look at Tank as I said the word 'friends', "occasionally call me 'Bombshell'."

She nodded somberly. "Ah. You are the one that avenged the death of your uncle with my friend Ahmed."

Oh god, she knows that horny little teenage sheik? "You know Ahmed? How nice." I said in my sweetest Auntie Stephanie voice. "Yeah, he was there when I took down Shempsky at the Newark Airport. Are you two friends?"

"He said that you would not let him feel your breasts, even though he offered you large sums of money."

The eyes of the chaperone got smaller and harder and her lips pursed even tighter, if that were possible. She glared at me and I gave her the 'Hey, don't look at me, it's not my fault' look. Beside me, I could feel Tank twitching again.

"I do not know why he would want to feel your breasts. They look quite small to me."

Either Tank was having an epileptic fit or he was about to give birth to a hernia from trying to hold everything in. I was beginning to understand why the Secret Service might not want to go near this kid. I was having the same feeling myself. I shot her my fiercest burg-babe glare.

"Well isn't it a good thing that he was able to save his money."

"I let him feel my breasts and he gave me a necklace."

"Honey! Don't let a boy go feeling up your breasts for a necklace!"

"Why not? It felt good."

"Did you want him to feel up your breasts?"

"Oh, yes."

"Oh, well then. That's different. And you got a necklace as well? Bonus."

"Would you like to see it?" From around her neck she pulled out a fine gold chain. Hanging on the chain was a very large dark amethyst stone that was cut into a serpentine shape. "Quite righteous, is it not?

It was beautiful. I smiled at her and she smiled back. "Quite righteous."

With an imperative gesture, she directed her chaperone to change seats with me. I shrugged and gave her the old 'kids will be kids' grimace but the older woman just glared at me. If her lips got any tighter, she was going to need cosmetic surgery to eat.

As I settled into the seat next to the Princess, she leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Your friend there," she shot a glance at Tank who looked distinctly uncomfortable at the two of his eyeing him. "He is quite nice to look at? No?"

I shot a mischievous glance at Tank before turning back to whisper to the Princess. "Quite nice. But you should see his boss!" I flexed my eyebrows up and down several times for emphasis. She giggled.

"Most righteous?"

"Most righteous!"

We then spent the rest of the ride into the city discussing with great detail the various physical attributes of the Merry Men, much to the discomfort of Tank and Hal who were well aware of whom we were whispering about.


	8. Danger! MRT alert!

At quarter of seven, we were pulling into driveway of the LaFayette Yard Marriott, exhausted from a whirlwind day of shopping and eating. Not that I did any shopping. Even if the stores that we had gone to hadn't been way too pricey for my budget, since the chaperone had picked them out, they were much too stuffy and old fashioned. If I had a normal grandmother, I would have said that they were the kind of stores that my grandmother would like, but even Grandma Mazur would have turned up her nose at the dowdy crap that we saw. We had lunch at the Russian Tea Room and an early dinner at the Tavern on the Green before leaving the city.

PJ gave a little gasp as the car pulled to a stop in front of the lobby. (She was now 'PJ', short for 'Princess Jee-Hanna' and I was 'BB', short for 'Burg Babe'.)

"Check out the MRT!" she gasped. 'MRT' was short for 'Most Righteous Torso' and I was pretty sure I knew who she was looking at before I even looked out the window.

On the sidewalk under the overhang stood Ranger looking like a chocolate Adonis under the glittering lights. He wore his trademark black skintight tee shirt which showed every cut and line of his magnificent abs. Just the sight of his chest and biceps made your fingers itch to roam over every swell and valley. For the occasion, he was wearing skin tight black cords and I bit my lip as I thought to myself 'Commando! No underwear!'

"Yeah." I agreed with a sigh, "_M_.M.R.T! And the rest of him ain't too shabby either. _That_ is Ranger."

"That is the man whom you work for?"

That phrasing rankled just a tad. "No. That is the man that I work with."

She shot me a mischievous glance as Tank walked around to open her door. "How about if you go to Gudang and be the princess and I will stay here and be the Burg Babe?"

The door opening prevented me from answering right away. As she stepped out, Ranger stepped up to greet us. She stood between us as Ranger looked me right in the eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching faintly.

I glanced over at the Princess. "No." I answered baldly.

PJ grinned. "Hey, it was worth the shot."

"Can't blame the girl for trying."

PJ gave me a hug and I returned it with an equal fervor. "Good night, BB! I will see you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing, PJ! Sleep tight!"

I watched her affectionately as she walked into the hotel, followed by her chaperone, Lester and Hal. I could feel Ranger's eyes on me and I waited for a moment before I shot him a sideways glance.

"BB?" he asked, his lips fighting the smile.

Well, duh! "Burg Babe." I told him, smirking with an air of superiority.

"Tank tells me you two hit it off pretty well. A little touch and go at the beginning. Tank was afraid that he was going to have to break up a catfight at one point."

"Just a little sparring. She's one smart kid." My gaze wandered into the lobby and I smiled as PJ gave me a little wave before the elevator doors closed on her. "She's shouldering a lot of responsibility right now as well as a lot of other baggage. I'm surprised at how normal she is, and funny. I think she's a tad more hormonal than I was at that age, but I suppose it's not surprising that she's developing early considering how quickly she's been forced to mature in other areas."

I felt Ranger's fingers playing with the curls at my temple and I turned and lost my breath as I caught the expression in his eyes. "You will never fail to amaze me, you know that, don't you?" His voice was so low and breathy and held a note that I had never heard there before. A tingle, starting where his finger touched my cheek, flared heat right through my body and I felt my legs trembling. My eyes locked on his lips as his head bent down and I felt his lips brush mine. My body was on fire and my mind was a complete blank. If he had ripped off my clothes and fucked me right there on the driveway of the hotel, I wouldn't have offered an ounce of resistance.

I stumbled forward as he pulled back, stepping away from me. My mind was mush and it was with a start that I remembered where we were. Ranger's smile was twisted but his eyes were warm with laughter and maybe something deeper.

"Oops, sorry!" I said. I don't know why I said that. It just came out. Ranger's smile widened. He reached into his rear pocket and pulled out a slim wallet.

"You're off until tomorrow morning at seven AM. I'll see you then." He peeled off some bills and handed them to me. "I know you're strapped for cash, so here's an advance on your paycheck."

I looked down and quickly counted ten one-hundred dollar bills. "Wow. Is this for today and tomorrow?"

"No, you'll earn another grand tomorrow. And trust me, keeping the princess in check, you're worth ten times that."

Sweet! I was headed for the mall! There was a shoe sale at Macy's and if I was going to be hanging with the Merry Men, I really felt as if I need some sexy black underwear from Victoria's Secrets. "Thanks, Ranger!"

I turned to see the Big Blue parked behind me. Ranger must have ordered it up from Valet Parking before we had arrived. I started towards the car only to feel a hand grab my neck and pull me back. I had barely turned when I felt Ranger's lips on my mouth, his tongue tickling mine, and one of his hands running down my back to gently stroke my buttocks. My mind turned to mush again.

Again, he broke away abruptly. "Take care, Babe. See you tomorrow."

I stumbled blindly to my car. Thank God the keys in the ignition because I think it might have taken me the better part of an hour if I had to try and put the key in that tiny slot myself. Ranger stood at the doorway and watched as I pulled away. How I managed to drive the car down the driveway and turn on to LaFayette Street, I'll never know. As soon as I was out of sight of the hotel, I pulled over and banged my head against the steering wheel a couple of times.

"I am so confused." I announced out loud.

I took a deep breath, pulled myself together, and did what any self-respecting Burg Babe would do when confronted with a crisis of such monumental proportions.

I went shopping.


	9. Just a little shopping at Macy's What co...

It was almost 9:30 and I was sitting in the Food Court outside Macy's with a pretzel and an Orange Julius in my hands and the spoils from an outrageous orgy of shopping strewn around me. I had left a message for Morelli on his cell phone about a half hour ago and still hadn't heard back. Most of the mall was closing but if Morelli wasn't going to be home before 10:30, I was diving back into Macy's for another half hour of decadent shopping before it closed at ten.

My phone rang and I rummaged through my purse to find it. A glance at the face told me that it was Ranger's cell. I had left a message on Ranger's cell phone a couple of hours ago, and I was a bit surprised that he hadn't called back sooner. I felt my defense mechanisms rise into place as I flipped open the phone. I was pretty sure I knew what he was calling about.

"Yo!" Chipper Skipper here.

"Babe." I straightened in my seat. There was a note in Ranger's voice that told me that something was very, very wrong.

"We've had an incident here at the hotel. Right after you left, there was an assassination attempt on the Princess."

My hands were shaking and my knuckles turned white as I grabbed the edge of the table. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Cal took a couple of shots to the chest, but he was wearing his Kevlar so it just broke a couple of ribs. Tank got grazed by a shot on his leg, but nothing serious. Morelli is fine..."

"Morelli is there? What's he doing there?"

"He heard the reports of gunshots at the hotel on his police scanner and he knew that you had been working here today..."

"I bet he was shocked to find a scene of carnage and destruction and me not in the middle of it!"

I could feel Ranger smile in the silence, but it was a weird silence. I felt a panic rising in me.

"Ranger, what's wrong?"

"It's the princess, Babe. We can't find her. We figure that the attack must have been a diversion tactic to kidnap her. We've got the State Department involved, but the people we're dealing with don't want her alive. It doesn't look good."

I bit my lip as I glanced around the food court trying to find something to say.

"I'm sorry, Babe. I know you really liked her..."

"Are you searching for her?"

"Yeah, we've got everyone out looking, but..."

"Have you checked the food court at the mall? Outside of Macy's?"

"What?"

"BB!" I heard a voice whine at me. "You rat me out!"

I turned to the girl sitting across from me. "PJ, they think you're dead!"

There was a heavy silence on the phone from Ranger, then "You've got the princess there with you?"

"Hey, it's not my fault! She snuck into the backseat of my car while we were... talking. I called you on your cell phone as soon as I found out. It's not my fault you took two hours to get back to me!"

The silence from the other end only lasted a second, but I knew Ranger was more than a little bit flabbergasted. I heard him speak to someone else at his end. "She with Stephanie at the mall," he said. He paused and listened to someone speak and then he said to me, "Stay there, we're coming to get you. You have your gun?"

"Well, yes."

I heard the murmur of someone speaking in the background and recognized Morelli's voice.

"Is your gun loaded?" Ranger asked dangerously.

"Well, no, but I do have bullets here somewhere." I rooted down in the bottom of my purse trying to find a few of the shells that I had tossed in that morning. I mean, really! Who knew that I would need a loaded gun to go to the mall?

"Put the bullets in your gun and wait for us there. We're on our way."

A weird movement caught my eye and I glanced up at the far end of the food court.

"Fuck!" I whispered.

"What is it?" snapped Ranger.

"We got a problem. Get here fast!"

I disconnected, grabbed PJ's arm and dragged her into Macy's, leaving our bags behind.


	10. Dresses to die for

Macy's on a weeknight after the mall closes is a kind of weird and desolate place. In the past, it's been one of my favorite times to shop because it's almost completely deserted and you can actually find a salesperson to help you when you need one.

On the other hand, the shoes have been so completely picked over and if you can find one that you like in your size, you can never find it's match.

Neither of those issues were large on my mind at the moment as I dragged PJ past the cosmetics counters and through the hand bag section. I was a lot more worried about the two men that I had seen out in the Food Court.

It's hard to tell what first bothered me about the two men. My years of mall shopping experience combined with an on-going fascination with people watching had triggered an alarm in my head when I saw the two of them. I hadn't, at first, noticed that they looked kind of Polynesian. I think it was the fact that there were two of them.

In my experience, the only time you'll see two men together shopping at the mall is if, one, they're teenage boys looking for teenage girls; two, if it's Christmas Eve and they've only got four hours left before they're both completely screwed; or three: they're gay.

These guys did not look gay or like they were trolling for chicks, and Christmas was still five months off. They had that alert look that I associated with Morelli when he was in cop-mode, or Ranger and the Merry Men when they were in bodyguard mode. Their eyes were scanning everything. And they weren't looking for bargains on designer luggage.

And of course my eyes had a tendency to notice suspicious bulges under men's clothes, but these bulges weren't the interesting below-the-belt kind of bulges. These were scary on-the-hip kind of bulges and I suspected that these guys were carrying some heavy artillery that could give my little .38 snubnose revolver an inferiority complex.

I had reacted instinctively, only wanting to get PJ away from what might be a dangerous situation. Unfortunately, my instincts were right. As we passed through the entry to Macy's, I looked behind me and saw one of them gesture towards us. As they walked quickly in our direction, I saw one touch an earpiece attached to a wire that ran down under his jacket. Whoever they were, there were more than the two that were following us.

The woman behind the counter in Junior Sportswear was counting out her cash drawer and looked up as we ran by. She looked a little puzzled but then shrugged and went back to cashing out.

We were almost to the north street entrance when I stopped short and pulled PJ down behind a rack of jackets. There were two other men stationed at that entrance, one looking into the store, the other watching the street outside. Hunching over, PJ and I backtracked to the back of the Misses department and we plunged into a rack of summer jumpers (50 off and every one of them uglier than sin).

My fingers were shaking but I managed to load my little Smith and Wesson. Chances are whoever these guys were, they were watching all the exits. Our best bet was to sit tight and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

It would have to be the ultimate irony of all creation if I were to die at Macy's.

We sat silently as we watched a pair of men's boots walk slowly by our rack. He stood and shuffled his feet for a moment. Another pair of boots approached and stopped by the first pair. I heard them say something, it sounded a little bit like French. I couldn't understand it, but I felt PJ stiffen next to me. The next thing I knew, the dresses were being pulled back and we were staring into the barrels of two small semi-automatic assault weapons.

All I could think of was when I had been shopping with Lula a couple of weeks ago and telling her that I wouldn't be caught dead in one of these jumpers.

The two men weren't looking at me, their eyes were focused on PJ. I could feel her trembling next to me as they raised their guns.

Two shots rang out. It seemed like time had stopped as they stood staring at us. Then, in slow motion, they fell backwards, beads of red blossoming on their foreheads. They fell to the ground and an eerie silence settled on all of Macy's. It was finally pierced by a woman screaming.

At first I thought it was me that was screaming, but then I saw Ms. Junior Sportswear standing there, looking down at the bodies, screaming bloody murder. Literally. I looked down in my hand and noticed that I had two spent shells in the cylinder. I didn't waste any time trying to figure out how that had happened, I just grabbed PJ's wrist and pulled her to her feet. We ran like hell and I wasn't even aware of which direction we were running.

We ended up near the mall entrance and while I saw a few people running out of Macy's in fear and a couple of stupid people running into Macy's out of curiosity, I didn't see any of the suspicious looking men. PJ and I made a bolt out of the door, back into the Food Court.

The Food Court looked deserted. I knew the next exit was a couple of hundred yards down and to the right so we started toward it. We hadn't run more than a couple of yards when I heard the multiple report of a semi-automatic. I pulled PJ down to the ground and we crawled behind a closed up pretzel cart as the glass storefront of Wicks 'n Sticks shattered behind us.

At this point, all hell broke loose and for the next few seconds, I huddled over PJ, listening to a gunfight that erupted on all sides.

The cavalry had arrived.

It was difficult to see what was happening without exposing ourselves and I didn't feel that well-protected with just a pretzel cart between us and all that crossfire. Using my elbow, (and wrecking the sleeve of a fabulous black leather jacket that I had just bought at Wilson's Leather... 60 off!), I knocked out the remaining shards of glass on the storefront. I scooped PJ up in my arms and dropped her over the half-wall. Looking back I saw one of the goons aiming his gun, but not towards us. A glance in that direction showed me that Hal was about to get clipped from behind and I didn't even want to think about what might happen if it missed his Kevlar vest. I pushed the pretzel cart as hard as I could toward the sniper and dived over the half-wall without even waiting to see what happened next.

I landed rolling amidst a mélange of shattered glass and scented wax. I saw PJ curled up against the half wall and I crawled over to her. We huddled there, listening to the gunfire. I was sick thinking about Joe and Ranger and the Merry Men out there in the crossfire. I heard PJ sob and I put my arm around her.

"I hate guns!" she sobbed.

"Me too."

"I hate it when people shoot at me."

"Yeah, that sucks big time, doesn't it?"

"Why won't they leave me alone!" PJ was fighting hysteria and I wasn't doing much better.

"I don't know, kiddo. Maybe we need to get them another hobby. Like gardening." Or maybe making license plates.

Gunshots were blasting all around us and I was talking nonsense, anything to keep myself from screaming like a baby. PJ stared at me and I smiled back as best I could.

"Does this happen to you often?" she asked.

"No!" Well, not really. Not that often. "Okay, well, maybe. But never at Macy's."

"Me too." She tried to smile at me. "Never at Macy's."

I gave her a hug and tousled her hair a tad. The gunfire was dying out. I heard men's voices calling back and forth but with the echoes through the now empty mall, I couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Oh my!" exclaimed PJ. "Check out the QGB!"

QGB? QGB was short for Quite Glorious Buns. Where the hell was she looking that she could see QGB? I looked at her and saw that she was looking at the shelf display that still held some diehard candles. The back of the display was mirrored, and although the glass had shattered, you could still look in the reflection and make out what was happening in the mall.

You've got to admire the resiliency of this kid that she could still be scoping out men in the midst of all this terror. Either that, or her hormones. Then again, as I focused on the mirror shards, I saw a very familiar pair of tight faded jeans appear in multiples like a kaleidoscope and I realized I couldn't blame her.

"Oh yeah." I smiled. "QGB, indeed. _That_ is Morelli."

I watched as Morelli walked, his gun drawn, his entire body on alert, towards Ranger, who stood directing the Merry Men with no more than a twitch of his head or a flick of his finger. A third man, an obvious Fed, approached and they spoke a little. They did not look at each other, their eyes were everywhere else. All three were still in code red mode. I dug out my cell phone.

"BB," PJ 's voice was breathless with awe. "Let me get this straight. During the day you work with MRT but at night you go home to QGB?"

I smiled and nodded as I dialed Ranger's cell phone.

"Fuck the throne. I want to be a Burg Babe when I grow up."

This surprised a gurgle of laughter out of me just as Ranger picked up the phone.

Ranger's voice was crisp and curt, but I knew it was from concern. "Where are you?"

"We're directly behind you, holed up in the candle shop."

In the reflection I saw all three men turn to glance in the direction of the shattered storefront. I raised my hand and did a little finger wave.

"The princess with you?"

"Yup, she's fine."

"Are you feeling secure enough there?"

"I've felt safer, but it'll work for the moment."

"Good. Stay down until we have the situation contained."

Morelli was moving to within about ten feet of the storefront, his back to us. He was in cop-mode, reconnoitering the corridor.

"Oh, my!" sighed PJ, her eyes riveted on the mirror.

"Knock it off!" I slapped PJ lightly off the back of her head.

"What is it?" asked Ranger.

"Nothing," I responded. "PJ is just admiring Morelli's...um... jeans."

In the glass I could see Ranger turn and it didn't take him more than a second to figure out what PJ was looking at. He shook his head in disbelief and I was sure he was trying hard not to smile and failing miserably.

A scrap of movement behind him caught my eye. A dark figure that had been lying still on the floor was rising and I saw that it was aiming a gun in our direction.

"GET DOWN! GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" I screamed so loud that I'm sure Ranger could hear me even without the cellphone.

What happened next occurred so quickly that I don't know what happened first. I heard gunshots and in the reflection of the mirror I saw Ranger and Morelli fall to the ground. Then the mirror shattered into tiny splinters, bullets riddling the shelves and the entire unit began to topple down on top of us, showering us with shards of glass.

I threw myself over PJ and felt sharp points stabbing my back and legs. Then something hard struck my head and everything went black.


	11. Oh, my butt!

I was vaguely aware of strange sounds and weird smells. Muffled footsteps echoing through corridors and chemical smells. I opened my eyes and saw white sheets and white walls. I was lying on my stomach in a strange bed and for a few moments I couldn't figure out where I was or how I got there. Then memory came back like a light switch.

I rolled over and gasped, as much from the pain that shot through my backside as my last memory from the mall. Tubes popped out of my arm and I felt hands on my wrist, pulling me back down on to my stomach.

"It's okay, Cupcake," I heard a familiar voice in my ear. "Just relax."

I looked over and saw Joe crouching by my bedside. He looked like hell. I collapsed back onto the bed.

"You okay?" My voice sounded raspy.

He gave me a half smile. "I'm fine." And then, to answer the question that he knew I was going to ask, "Ranger and the princess are fine as well. They're back in the hotel and Ranger will be taking her down to DC tomorrow."

"The Merry Men?" Morelli smiled at my question. "Not bad, besides Cal busted ribs from the hotel, Tank got clipped again in the arm and Lester took a couple of rounds to his Kevlar, but nothing broken, just bruised. Bobby and Hal are fine." Morelli paused to smile at me. "Tank says that Hal almost got clipped from behind at one point but his assailant was plowed over by a pretzel cart before he could get out a round."

I was exhausted and I felt sleep coming down on me again. "Damn, those pretzel carts are dangerous. They ought to require some kind of license for those things."

"Almost as dangerous as Buicks."

I was sinking fast. "Yeah, gotta watch out for Buicks and pretzel carts."

I closed my eyes and heard a nurse come in and reattach my tubes. I cracked my eyes open a bit and saw her adjust a valve on something dripping into the tube. Morelli settled himself back on to a chair.

"What's with my ass?" I saw Morelli glance at my butt and smirk. "I mean, why does it hurt so much?"

"They pulled out over fifty glass shards that had stabbed your backside and legs. There were a couple in your head as well. That leather jacket may have saved both your lives."

I was fighting the sleep. I suspected that whatever was dripping into that tube was sending me off to lala land. "Something hit me in the head."

"It was a large scented candle."

"Probably hazelnut. Never did like hazelnut candles." I muttered.

Morelli's snort was the last thing I heard before I faded out.


	12. Morelli will not be happy

Chapter 12

I don't know what was in worse shape: my butt or my apartment. Valerie and company had finally moved into their three bedroom house and vacated my little one bedroom flat. I was thinking about calling Sally Sweet's ex-roommate, Sugar, to come by and redecorate it for me again with another Molotov cocktail.

It was a disaster area. I kind of knew that two adults (and I use that term loosely) two children and a baby in a one bedroom apartment might be a little bit more than what the architects' original design intended, but until I saw the disaster of my living room, I hadn't really thought about it. Is that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich stuck to the ceiling? How do you get a PBJ stuck on the ceiling?

Scraping PBJ off the ceiling made me think about PJ. She had called me in the hospital from the plane all excited because she had managed to pinch Ranger's cheek before running up the boarding ramp. And not the cheek on his face either. I had laughed so hard that the nurses wanted to sedate me again, they thought I was having a fit of hysteria.

I'm going to miss that kid. It looked like she was going to be alright 'though. It seems that someone had placed a .38 shell into the forehead of the principal instigator of the insurrection. Right in the middle of the Misses Department of Macy's. Go figure.

Add to that, a shootout at the Trenton Mall with the involvement of the infamous Bombshell Bounty Hunter seems to have generated enough publicity to trickle down to Washington. As a result, The ruling Gudang government got enough Federal money to help stabilize their political situation and restore a certain amount of order to their country.

Just another day in the life of Stephanie Plum, Bounty Hunter from Hell.

That's why I didn't feel even remotely guilty about the exceptionally fabulous leather jacket that I received from PJ. Most Glorious! However, I did feel a little weird about the necklace that she had tucked into the pocket. It was that beautiful dark amethyst stone that the horny teenage Ahmed had given her. I called her, threatening to return it to her, but she was insistent.

"Look at it!" she was adamant. "It is shaped a little bit like an 'S'. 'S' for Stephanie! And it is dark purple! Plum! It was meant for you! You must keep it. I want you to!"

How could I argue with reasoning like that? And I really did love it. I decided that I deserved fine gemstones. I had a pair of purple FMPs that matched and I went to Victoria's Secret and bought string bikini undies with a matching skimpy pushup bra in the exact same shade. I modeled them for Morelli.

He agreed that I deserved fine gemstones as well. He then proceeded to share with me his family jewels. A quite righteous evening was had by all.

I thought about our diversions of the prior night as I scrubbed the kitchen counters. I could feel a goofy smile on my face and I was glad that I was alone.

My cell phone rang. It was Morelli, I put my new earpiece in my ear so that I could keep cleaning while we talked. I am so on the cutting edge of technology.

"Plum Scrubbers, Industrial Cleaning Agency. We live to clean."

"Where are you?"

"My apartment. The Kloughns have left the building. Unfortunately, they didn't take all their trash with them." I opened the cabinet doors under the sink and a stench hit me like a two by four in the face. "Omigod!"

"What is it?"

"There's a dirty diaper under here! And it's beyond ripe!" My stomach roiled and I made a gagging sound. Gingerly I carried the atrocity out of the apartment into a large trash bag in the hallway. "Pee-yew! That's got to be one of the most disgusting things I've smelt in my entire life!"

I could hear the laughter in his voice. Not a shred of sympathy, mind you, but a lot of amusement. "What are your plans for today?"

"Well, I still don't have any skips to chase, but since I've got a decent paycheck on the way from RangeMan, I'm not panicking yet. I figure I'll just spend the day here, sentenced to hard labor. I've got panicking about my future scheduled for tomorrow."

"Good." Good? Panicking is good? Is he even hearing me? "Could you do me a favor and give me a call if your plans change and you're not staying at the apartment?"

Okay, my curiosity is up. "Why?"

He sighed. "Nothing to get excited about. There are just a couple of loose ends falling out from the Slayer investigation and until we have more definite intell, I'd just feel more comfortable knowing where you are."

"What kind of loose ends?"

Another sigh. "Nothing definite enough to discuss. If it pans out to be anything even close to being legit, I'll call you. Okay?"

I hate it when he does this to me. Something's up, he knows something's up, and he's not talking. Does he still think I'm going to sit quietly and do nothing? I felt the slow burn coming on.

"Stephanie? Hello? Are you still there?"

"Fine. I'll give you a call when I'm done here. I'm not feeling a hundred percent yet, so I'll probably just go back to the house around three or four and take a nap before dinner."

"Out or in?"

I thought about that for a minute. "In. How 'bout Chinese?"

"Sounds good. I'll pick some up on the way home."

He disconnected and I wasted a few brain cells thinking how we both needed some serious remedial phone etiquette therapy. Ranger too. Then again, I flashed to the way Valerie and Albert played You hang up first, Snug 'ems. No, no, no, Sweetums, you hang up first. Na-huh, you first, lickity lips. No, no, you first.

Ugh!

As I scrubbed down the kitchen cabinets, I entertained myself with visions of Morelli and me playing that game. Then I recast it with Ranger and me and laughed out loud. Then I played it with Morelli and Ranger playing sweetums and snuggles phone tag with each other and laughed so hard that I had to run into the bathroom before I peed my pants.

I do have the gift of knowing how to entertain myself.

I was still giggling to myself as I crawled on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. It probably tells you how brain dead I was becoming that when two black leather boots stepped into my line of vision, I didn't screech or gasp. I just hit the toe with my scrub brush.

"Off my clean floor! It's still wet!"

I heard Ranger chuckle and I pushed my hair off my face with the back of my hand as I looked up at him. I leaned back to sit on my heels, remembering too late what a bad idea that was.

"Ow." I muttered as my butt reminded me why I had slept on my stomach again last night.

I felt a hand grasp my elbow and a strong arm pulled me to my feet.

"I hate to disturb you, I had no idea that scrubbing a floor could be so amusing."

I felt my face heat up and I bit my lip as I remembered what I had been grinning about a moment before. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"You should try it sometime." I am the queen of the snappy comeback.

His hand was still grasping my elbow and he pulled me towards his chest. "When I get on my knees, it won't be to wash the floor."

Yow! Retreat! Runaway! Runaway! I broke away and crossed to the sink, pulling off my sexy yellow Playtex gloves. "Don't knock it until you try it." Okay, how lame was that comeback?

"I could say the same thing." I was so losing this game. Time to change the rules.

I walked over to the fridge and pulled two bottles of Coors out from the six pack that I had just put in there a few hours ago. I slammed the door shut quickly. I had not yet tackled the inside of the fridge. "You come all the way over here to discuss domestic cleaning?" I asked, handing him a bottle.

He ignored my question as he took the beer. He pulled out a white envelope out of his jacket pocket, handing it to me. "How's your butt feeling?"

"How's yours?" I smirked as I turned over the envelope. It was a paycheck from RangeMan.

He gave me the eyebrow thing again, as if to say, I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours. I decided to ignore this little sally and bent my head to open the envelope.

"Yow, Ranger, time to fire your bookkeeper! Slight typo in your payroll department!" Instead of the one thousand dollars that was due for the day that I spent lying on my stomach in the hospital, the check was for eleven thousand dollars!

"Just your portion of a bonus that RangeMan received from the Gudang government. The rest of it we keeping in reserve to offset any future "Code Plum" expenditures."

"Oh? Does this mean that your Entertainment Line Item is in the black?" I gave him the raised eyebrow.

"We'll just leave it that we've got a short-term budget surplus."

"Your confidence in me is underwhelming."

He gave me that little twitch of the cheek almost-smile as he leaned against the kitchen and took a long pull on the bottle. I would have leaned against it as well, but I caught myself in time. My butt was not quite ready for the James Dean Lean. We were quiet for a few long moments. There was something else he wanted to talk about it, but he wasn't ready to bring it up. That's okay. I can be patient.

Not.

"Well?" I said after about four hours. Okay, maybe it was more like forty seconds, but like I said, patience is not one of my life skills.

He took another mouthful of beer and looked at me speculatively. "I need your help bringing in a couple of skips," he said at last.

"What?" I froze with the beer bottle almost to my lips and my mouth open. As far as I knew, The only FTAs that Ranger had were gang members. With all the Merry Men at his disposal, why would he need my help?

He glanced at the beer bottle in front of my gaping mouth and then at my lips. He put his finger on my chin and pushed up on my jaw, giving me a little smirk that told me exactly what was on his mind. I put the bottle back down on the counter.

"Gangbangers?" I asked. He gave me a small nod. I gazed off into space as I grappled with the knot of panic that roiled in my stomach. I didn't really feel ready to go up against the gangs again, but I knew that I would have to face them sometime. It would be better to do it now with Ranger and the Merry Men on one of his orchestrated operations than in a couple of months with Lula and I doing our Abbott and Costello play bounty hunters imitation.

I gave Ranger a faint nod. "Morelli is gonna kill me." I muttered.


	13. Loose on the Streets

Chapter 13:

I had left a message on Joe's office machine. Okay, so that was cowardly. He's never at his desk and I knew I would get his voice mail, but, technically, I didn't break my promise.

"Hi! Just letting you know that I'm loose on the streets!" I can be so perky when I'm full of shit. "I'm helping Ranger out with a skip. I'll probably still beat you home. See you tonight."

I knew perfectly well that Morelli was going to go ape shit. Oh well. We haven't had a decent fight for a couple of weeks now.

I had changed into my cool black bootleg jeans with a black chamois shirt buttoned low to show a black tank top. With my black Timberland steel toe work boots and my batman utility belt, I felt like I was so ready to kick some gangbanger butt. I thought about wearing the exceptionally fabulous black leather jacket, but, to tell the truth, while I had a lot of confidence in Ranger's ability to protect my sorry white ass, I had no confidence whatsoever in his desire to protect my fabulous black leather jacket. It was with real regret that I left it at my apartment.

My coolness quotient definitely dropped a couple of points when I stopped at the Big Blue to get my inflatable donut cushion. As I tossed it on to the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer, I gave Ranger my most evil Burg Babe stare, just daring him to say one word. He glanced at the cushion and then at me before glancing back to the cushion. He lifted an eyebrow and his mouth twitched, but he didn't say a thing. I climbed into the truck and gingerly sat down on my vinyl throne.

Ranger pulled out of my parking lot.

"So what's the plan?" I wanted to get the lowdown on this operation before he went off into his Zen Zone.

"We're meeting up with Tank, Lester, Bobby and Hal. We'll discuss the details then."

There was a suspicious note in Ranger's voice. I stared hard at him. I knew he could feel my eyes boring into the side of his head. He knew I wanted to know more. Finally, he turned and shot me a smile.

"Babe," was all he said.

I piffed and glared out the window. Have I mentioned that patience is not one of my life skills?

In the side view mirror, I saw a black Lexus SUV pull in behind us. Inside, I recognized two very large figures. As I looked at the larger of the two, a thought occurred to me.

"Should Tank be working yet? Didn't he get shot at the hotel and then again at the mall?"

Touchdown! I finally broke through to the Zen Zone! Ranger turned and stared at me with a look of complete disbelief. "He was grazed on the leg and knicked on the arm. He only needed a couple of stitches," he said, shaking his head. "He's fine."

"And what was that look for?"

He glanced at me as if to say 'What look?'.

"You know what look… that look!"

Ranger turned back to watch the traffic, but he was shaking his head and trying to stifle a smile. "Babe. Three days ago you were stabbed over fifty times. Some of the shards went four or five inches deep. You lost a lot of blood before the ambulance came." He glanced over at me and I was surprised to see admiration in his eyes. "Babe, you could have died, and you're worried about Tank?"

"Oh." I hadn't really thought of it that way. Somehow, getting shot with a gun seems a lot more scary and dangerous than get mugged by a candle display.

I think Ranger had the ESP thing going on again. "You're the only human being that I know that should wear a Kevlar vest when she goes to the mall."

"Ha. It's obvious you've never been to the after-Christmas sale at Filene's Basement."

He gave me a little smile and a shake of his head before he turned back to his driving. I went back to looking out the window. In the side view mirror, I noticed a second black SUV peeking out from behind the first one. Since Bobby was driving with Tank, I figured that Lester and Hal must be in the second car. We were approaching gang turf and I was hoping we would meet and brief a little farther away from ground zero, but I bit my lip, determined not to ask again. I was feeling a little weird though. It had only been a week or so since the Slayer incident on Comstock and I really hadn't thought that I would be back here again, so close, so soon.

We were approaching the top of Comstock when a flash of police lights caught my eye in the side view mirror. Ranger caught it at the same time and I saw him glance in his rear view mirror as he put on his directional and pulled over. I looked in the side view mirror and saw Bobby's and Lester's vehicles do the same.

From where I sat, I couldn't see the police car until it pulled up beside us and then cut over to block the Explorer. That's when I saw that it was Morelli's Crown Vic with the Kojac light on the roof. As he got out of the car, he slammed the car door so hard that it shook the glass on the nearby storefronts. He was pissed.

Which was an amazing coincidence, because I was a little angry myself. I ripped open the door and jumped down from the truck, completely ignoring the stabs of pain that shot through my legs and butt from landing so hard on my feet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled as I stormed up to him in the street.

"You, I know, are insane." Morelli snapped in my face. "Completely insane and irrational, and I'm trying hard to deal with it. But you," he turned to yell at Ranger who had just stepped out onto the pavement. "What the hell are you thinking about dragging her out here the day after she gets out of the hospital?"

First, I'd like everyone to realize that if the Surgeon General hasn't yet advised that yelling at Ranger can be hazardous to your health, he should.

Second, "What the hell do you mean that he's dragging me out here? Do you think that I don't make my own decisions? It's my job! When I need help with a skip, I ask Ranger," okay, so maybe his help doesn't always come without a price tag, "so when he needs my help, I give him a hand. It's the job. And nothing gives you the right to come out here and play Grog the caveman and try and stop me."

"Your job? When did you DECIDE your job was to become live bait?"

"She's not here to be bait, Morelli." I turned to look at Ranger. He was staring at Morelli with a burning cold look in his eye that scared the shit out of me. I remember seeing it before when he went after Abruzzi. The silence on that street was screaming at me. Instinctively, I stepped between them. As Ranger moved his glare from Morelli to me, his eye softened and I let out a deep breath. I hadn't even been aware that I had been holding it. When he spoke again, it was to me. "She's here because she's the only one that can do this. This isn't a decision I've made rashly. I've done my homework and I know the score. If Stephanie helps, the takedown will go quietly. If we do it without her, people will get hurt. That's the bottom line."

"It's not her responsibility." I could hear the anger buried in Morelli's voice.

"No," answered Ranger. "But it is her job."

How can we stand in the middle of the street in the middle of the day in the middle of Trenton and have the entire world be so fucking quiet for so long? I glanced between Morelli and Ranger, more confused than ever.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?" I finally exploded.


	14. It's my job

CHAPTER 14

You could almost hear the air snap when Morelli's eyes broke off from flaming Ranger to glare at me.

"You don't know? You talk about making your own decisions, but you're here on the edge of gang turf and you don't even know what's going on?" He turned to Ranger. "At what point were you going to let her in on the lay of the land? When you were all the way down on Comstock and Seventh?"

Ranger was tight-lipped and cold-eyed as he stared at Morelli. I got the feeling that his anger was because Morelli's barbs were hitting home closer than his conscience was comfortable with. I glanced between them, still no closer to knowing what they were talking about. I turned on Morelli, poking him in the chest with my finger, driving him back towards his car.

"Don't get on Ranger's case when he's no better than you are about telling me what I need to know in order to make intelligent decisions. And don't go yelling at me if I go flying half cocked through Trenton because everyone's more interested in keeping me in the dark than giving me credit for the brains that I have."

A snort from behind me made me turn and I saw, Tank, Hal, Lester and Bobby standing next to one of the SUVs. Bobby was grinning and Tank was nodding. I was guessing that they all agreed with me.

"Do you guys know what the hell they're talking about?"

They all nodded. Bobby grinned wider.

"Fudging A! Everyone in Trenton knows except me!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a homeless crackhead, huddled next to a stoop, watching us with bloodshot eyes.

"You!" I yelled at him. He twitched in fear and back-crawled a foot or two away from me. "Do you know what they're talking about?"

He shot a glance around in a panic before answering. "Are you the Bombshell Bounty Hunter?"

I was speechless. I really didn't expect him to know, I was just asking him to drive home a point. I nodded dumbly.

"Then, yup. I know what they're talking about."

I stood staring at the bum for a good thirty seconds. Everybody except me DID know what was going on. If I was angry before, I just shot into supernova. I grabbed at my utility belt.

"Where's my stun gun? Where's my stun gun? He's going down!"

Ranger grabbed at my arm. He pulled me back and turned me around. "Calm down."

Just for future reference, when I'm in the middle of a temper tantrum, telling me to calm down is just about the worst thing you can do. I twisted my arm free and pulled away. I paced back and forth, trying to cool off.

"You should all be grateful right now that I don't have any bullets in my gun."

The only thing that I could hear was the heaving of my breath as I paced back and forth. The truth was, I was exhausted. I was still weak from being mugged by a candle and this tantrum was sucking out whatever energy I had left. My temper ran out of steam so I stood with my arms crossed in front of me, glaring at the two of them.

Morelli finally spoke. "In the past six months, there's been a escalation of tension among the Trenton street gangs. The Slayers had been growing more and more aggressive and predatory. They were encroaching onto other gangs turf. The murder rate for street violence was up about three hundred percent."

Morelli was sounding like a Trenton Police Department press release. He paused and looked at me. I took a deep breath as he continued.

"About two weeks ago, there started a little change on the turf. There was a rumor going down that a certain female bounty hunter had declared war on the Slayers, vowing to drive them out of Trenton." Yeah, I had heard about that. It was load of huey, but I'd heard about it. "Of course, the other gangs thought this was just wonderful." The sarcasm in Morelli's voice had a biting edge to it.

"So, a week ago, the Slayers kidnapped and tried to murder this certain bounty hunter. She didn't die, but within twelve hours, all the Slayers were either dead or driven out of Trenton. As far as the other gangs are concerned, it was the Bombshell Bounty Hunter that wiped them out." Morelli's voice had gone completely flat, but I knew he was angry. Maybe not at me, but he was really, really pissed.

"That wasn't me! It was Sally! And the other gangs! The only thing I drove out of Trenton was the Big Blue!"

Morelli ignored my outburst. "About a week or so ago, we started getting some reports in from the State Prison. There seems to be a new prestige badge some of the inmates were bragging on. Seems getting collected by the Bombshell Bounty Hunter now has major face value. Even more face if she kicked you in the balls."

I felt like someone had kicked me in the balls. I put my hand on the hood of the Explorer to steady myself. Morelli took a step towards me, but I waved him off.

"And…?" I asked

It was Ranger that answered "The new prestige factor for all the gangbangers in Trenton is to be collected by the Bombshell Bounty Hunter. It's gotten so bad that they won't come in any other way."

"Fact is," Morelli added, "some gang members are letting themselves get caught just so they can skip bail and get picked up by you."

"It's gotten a little out of hand," said Ranger.

You think so? I was having trouble breathing.

"In the past week they've shot and wounded two bounty hunters and a cop." Ranger's voice was flatlining as well. "And on Wednesday, fifteen year old Manuel Martinez of the Kings got himself killed rather than allow himself to be brought in by another bounty hunter."

I really needed to sit down, but my butt was in shreds and so was my head. I leaned my elbows against the hood of the Explorer and cradled my forehead in my hands.

"I've got faces on the street." Ranger said, talking about his gang connections. "The down is, if you're there for the bust, they come in peacefully. I've checked it out and it's for real. They've got no grief against you. It's all about their street status. They're young and stupid, but some of them may live long enough to out grow it."

I looked up at Ranger. There was a bitter note in his voice. I got the feeling that the death of Manuel Martinez was personal.

"Were you there when Martinez got killed?"

Ranger stared at me for a long moment before nodding faintly.

"Were you ever a gang member?" I asked him quietly. Ranger didn't say a word, but he didn't look away either and I think I had my answer. I looked over at Morelli.

"It's my job." I told him.

He looked at me with a weariness that almost hurt to see. "You're insane," he said at last. "But I'll back you up."


End file.
